Reaching out in the Darkness
by AAnitab
Summary: During the "Buffy's dead" period, two british guys pull together to help the slayer's little sister... and get a lot more than they bargained for in the process... Giles/Spike slash, romantic smut. I am the queen.
1. the dark before the Dawn

Title: Reaching out in the darkness

Author: Anitab

Rating: oh-so NC-17 for happy slash sex.

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, no profit so no reason to sue (please!).

Author's notes: Well, I've been bitten by the slash bug apparently and Spike and Giles had fodder enough for my twisted little brain after Buffy died and they both needed something so badso here it is. (I partially blame Dawn for agreeing to help me slash her giles and her spike over the head with stuff). Well, on to the story (as in the what the hell am I doing part of the message, heavily influenced by actor love) Thoughts inside or inside / /

Reaching out in the darkness

By AnitaB

Chapter one: the dark before the Dawn.

"Buffy! No!" He didn't know if he'd said it but half a dozen other voices said it for him if he hadn't. He felt it in either case, felt it in his throat catching, in his heart slamming against his ribs, in every cell and fiber of his body reaching out as if will alone could halt that deadly fall. But he didn't know if he'd actually said it or not. His eyes, despite the pain of what was before them, refused to blink, to shift away from the far too motionless body lying among the boxes. "Oh, my god, Buffy."

"Oh, my god, Buffy." Spike found the metal railing of the stairs bending ever so slowly in the force of his clenched hands. Metal gratings rang under his heels as Spike nearly flew down 

the stairs; completely oblivious to the demons he'd been fighting so attentively moments earlier. They didn't matter. All that mattered was her, lying below the edge she'd jumped from. All that mattered was touching Buffy, waiting for her to wake up, convincing the motionless chunk of muscle inside his ribs that she wasn't dead, not really. Buffy couldn't be dead. His feet stopped mere feet from her, his eyes helplessly watching Giles gently close her eyes and clutch her hand, sobbing. No, Giles, don't...She isn't...She can't be...

Before his mind could wrap itself around the word it couldn't even think, Spike felt the vibration of bare feet running behind him. "Buffy!"

"No, Dawn, don't!" Catching the brunette, Spike wrapped Buffy's little sister in his arms, holding Dawn tighter as she cried and struggled against him. "I'm sorry, Dawn, I'm so sorry, little bit." He buried his face in her hair as she buried herself in his arms, her hands slipping past his leather trench to cling to him. "It's all my fault, Dawn, I'm so bloody sorry."

Against his will, his eyes turned back to the body. This close he couldn't deny that she was really gone, that it was 'the body' and not his Buffy anymore. Closing his eyes, Spike rested his forehead against Dawn's hair. I'm so sorry, Buffy.

"Oh, my god, Buffy." Giles found small slivers of wood embedding themselves in his palms from the usually smooth handle of his axe at the force of his grip. Time slowed and stopped as Buffy's fall slowed then stopped. She couldn't be... his slayer, his Buffy couldn't be ...dead. Uncurling his fingers from the cracked length of wood, Giles felt his feet cross the debris-covered floor of their own accord, his hand reaching for out for hers. The touch of her limp fingers in his and the blank emptiness of her open eyes sent his heart climbing up the back of his throat with the tight feeling of tears. I've lost her, my slayer's...gone. Sinking to his knees, Giles reached out a shaking hand to close her eyes, feeling the hot tears spill over and drip onto the cooling hand clutched in both of his own. "I'm so bloody sorry, Buffy. I've failed you."

Behind him the others grieved. Spike held a weeping Dawn in his arms. Xander, Willow and Anya moved towards him as a huddled group. But Giles didn't process any of it. All he heard was the muffled sound of his own crying as he buried his face against her hand. It's all my fault.

Days passed. How many, Spike couldn't really be sure. Time blurred between his day mares in which he tried desperately to save Buffy and occasionally succeeded and the nights spent guarding and often holding Dawn, determined not to fail again. Today, whatever day it 

was, night had just fallen and Spike was walking from his crypt towards the Summers house, the oddly empty and overcrowded house. Knocking on the door, he walked in without meeting the other man's eyes. Seeing the pain and grief in Giles's face only reminded him of his own. "How's the niblet?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess." The glasses came off and Spike watched the long fingers polish the lenses habitually. He'd seen that nervous gesture a lot recently. "But I should warn you, she's insisted on watching tear-jerker films all day. Seems to make her feel a little better."

Moving to stand in the doorway, Spike looked at Dawn, huddled on the couch in her pj's. The emotion filling his face at the sight of her matched the look on Giles: a mixture of pain, guilt and tenderness. "That's not too much for her to ask. I only wish..." Spike stopped a moment, almost clearing his throat. "I only wish she'd ask for more, that I could help her more." The tight feeling in his neck was back, not quite full-force. He'd failed Buffy but he would not fail Dawn. Spike would carve out his own unbeating heart and serve it up on a sunlit altar for her. "I'd give a quart of heart's blood to see a real smile on her face."

Spike finally raised his eyes to see Giles' face contorted in a painful smile of his own. The expression was disturbingly similar to Dawn's when she tried to comfort them. He knew his own face wore a small twisted grin as he met Giles' eyes for the first time since the former watcher stood up next to Buffy's body and said the words no one wanted to hear, 'she's dead'. Eyes meeting, pain and sympathy passed between them until it got too hard and Spike turned away, breaking the contact. "Well, you ain't got all night. Go patrolling and take it with you." Not looking back, he stripped off his trench and moved to sit next to Dawn on the couch. Wrapping an arm around the girl, Spike tried not to hear the overly cheery voice trailing Giles out of the house by striking up a conversation. "So, pet, Mr. My-glasses-are-so-dirty says we're having a movie marathon but I don' see any popcorn or candy. What kind of movie party you throwin' here, little bit?" The joke earned him a small, weak smile. It wasn't much but he'd take it. "So what'll it be, pet, butter or caramel popcorn?"

Dawn sat up a little straighter and opened her blanket. "Buttered popcorn and I think we have some ice cream too." That's my strong girl. Spike took her hand and led the way to the kitchen for treats. "So what're we watching tonight?"

Shutting the door behind him, Giles stopped a moment and took a deep breath for strength. Though he concealed it better, he was just as uncomfortable around the bot as Spike was. It was going to be a very long patrol and Giles wished he could go back inside and watch 

sappy movies with Dawn and Spike. Spike would be making the popcorn right, hunting for Dawn's favorite ice cream or candy in the fridge, getting those small sad smiles only he could get her to give. At times like these (times far more plentiful than he'd ever expected them to be), Giles wondered why Spike had never had children before he'd been turned. He was so good with Dawn.

"So where should we look for the vampires first, Rupert?" She stood there, shiny and smiling and perfect. And not anything at all like his Buffy.

"It's Giles, I've told you that," Wiping his glass lens, he tried to put up the emotionless facade that let him deal with the bot. "And we are going to the magic shop to pick up the girls."

Reluctantly following it down the porch steps, Giles looked away from the perfect fall of blonde hair. "Willow and Tara, yes I remember. Willow is gay and they are both powerful witches." A sharp nod of the bot's head showed her pride in her own brilliance.

Bloody daft robot and damn Spike for her programming. "Yes, that's right, now we ain't got all night, so hurry up." Giles flinched inside, hearing Spike's accent in his own voice. Shaking his head, he brushed it off as stress-related and kept walking. I must talk with Willow about the vocabulary program. A block from the shop, it turned and laid both its hands on his arm. Giles immediately squelched the urge to bat the touch away. It gave him the most pitiful expression the last time he'd failed to, far too close to the real Buffy's pout. But he couldn't stop every muscle in his body from tensing with revulsion. This mockery's touch was always so...wrong, so painful. And the bot always wanted to touch him as some source of comfort or reassurance. Tonight he just couldn't play Watcher to the pile of wires and circuits. Not tonight.

"What is it?" Turning and taking a subtle step away, Giles disguised his move out of her reach by facing her, his eyes slightly averted.

"Willow is taking her tools with her, right? For if I get damaged?"

"Of course she will."

"Good, because I've only been the slayer for a few days and I do not want to get broken and not be able to do my slayer duty." Her bright happy smile drove a sharp pain through his ribs and Giles again wished he was back on the Summers' living room couch, watching bad movies and hearing snarky jokes in a British accent. Seeing those weak smiles and hearing the small laughs the peroxide vamp coaxed from Dawn. One night she had fallen asleep on the couch 

between them, her feet in his lap and her head on Spike's knee. Together they had taken the girl upstairs and put her to bed. Afterward, with hours until daylight, they watched late night TV in a comfortable silence. I'd give anything to be anywhere but here.

"Of course, buffybot, now let's go on inside so you can get to work." Anything so long as you stop touching me.

The weight against his side became gradually heavier as Dawn lost her fight against sleep. Ever since...it...had happened, the teenager absolutely hated to go to sleep, often jerking awake when he tried to carry her up to bed. Reaching past her shoulder, Spike grabbed up the blanket she'd lost sometime during the last movie, holding her closer and tucking it under her chin. "I'll let you sleep here with me for a little longer, then I'll take you upstairs to bed." Telling himself that it was only so she could be a little deeper asleep when he moved her, Spike rested his cheek against her hair to treasure her warmth against him. Dawn was here, safe and warm and letting him hold her. It was almost perfect. All that was missing was...Spike shook his head, trying to clear away the odd wish for the former Watcher's hand on his shoulder as the other opened the door to Dawn's room. Late night TV was far less interesting than the former watcher's sense of humor. The old bloke could be entertaining at times.

Mentally changing the subject, Spike carefully gathered Dawn into his arms and moved towards the staircase. She'd been asleep for a good half hour; it was about time to get her to bed. Three steps from the bottom stairs, the doorknob rattled. Squelching the instinct to attack and defend, Spike listened for the key in the lock with a half-buried sigh of relief.

With the watcher home it wouldn't be so deathly silent in here. Still that thing had probably come home with him, so Spike faced the opening door with a mixture of relief and distaste. When did this house become home to me?

God, he was so glad this night was almost over. Giles rolled his eyes as he wiggled the key into the lock. Have enough demons kick in a door and it was bound to have lock problems. As the knob finally turned, he sighed in relief and tried to ignore the prattling robot behind him. A few more minutes and he could finally shut the bot down and plug her in for the night. Then he could relax in bloody quiet. The door opened and Giles walked through it with his shoulders slumped. The sight before him straightened his back a little. Spike was about four feet away with a sleeping Dawn cradled in his arms. Bloody hell, it's good to be home.

Walking quickly forward, he rested a hand on Spike's shoulder and dropped a kiss on Dawn's forehead. "How has she been?"

"All right, I guess, she's laughed a little. Uneventful patrol?" Spike seemed relieved to see him and didn't move away from his hand.

"Yeah, we had all the time in the world to talk." He could hear the annoyance in his own voice and was comforted by the compassion in the paler man's face. "Give me a minute to get the bot plugged in and I'll help you get the niblet to bed."

Just then, the bot stepped around Giles' shoulder with a horrifyingly familiar look on its face. "Spike, you look so sexy in leather. Why did you take off your trench coat?"

He watched something indescribable flow over Spike's face from less than two feet away. And all Giles could do was thank god that the robot never did anything like that to him. He could see every muscle in that pale body flinch and tighten and he worried vaguely about Dawn's safety as those arms clenched. "Get...that thing... away from me."

Then Spike turned sharply on one heel and disappeared back into the living room. The pain on that face sent a sympathetic ache into Giles' ribs. Hurrying the bot upstairs, he didn't even try to respond to her questioning face. It was more important to get back downstairs to Spike. "We'll talk in the morning, your battery must be getting low by now."

Ignoring the pity-me-pout on her lips, Giles opened the panel in her side and hurriedly shoved the power cord into the plug. Standing, he fled the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. He hated seeing the blank emptiness of its eyes. It reminded him too much of the real Buffy among the boxes. Two steps into the living room, Giles found Dawn laid down carefully on the couch and Spike staring fixedly out the window, tension written in every line of his body. Giles stepped closer, reaching out a hand. "Spike,"

"It's almost been a bloody week. Why hasn't Willow gotten it to stop that?" By the small dents in the wood under Spike's fingers, Giles couldn't help but see how intensely this bothered him even without seeing his face. "It's a robot, how hard is it to go in and yank out the programming. I wish I'd never ordered the bloody thing."

The dents in the window frame got gradually deeper and Giles' heart went out to him. He 

just had to do something, had to ease the pain so clearly riding Spike. "Well, I, for one, am bloody glad you did." The blonde turned sharply, shock and confusion written in his face. It was a start. At least those blue eyes weren't filled with pain anymore.

"You get hit on the head on patrol tonight, Rupert?"

"No, Spike, I haven't. Just think about it. Without your bot..."

"Don't you call it that!"

"Fine, without that robot, the entire demon world would know that the Slayer is... that Buffy isn't in Sunnydale. The city would be overrun by demons, vampires, and any other beings that thought no Slayer meant free lunch. Dawn would be dead or at the very least sent to LA to her father who has only fake memories of her. We'd have lost both of them if not for that bot. Dawn would have been sent to a man she's never met, someone who doesn't know when she's lying, someone who doesn't know how to make her smile. Is that what you want, Spike? To see her sent away from her family to her Father?" Giles knew he was yelling despite the fact that his voice was only a few decibels above a whisper, feeling his every ounce of emotion flowing over his words. "Do you want to give her up?"

"Cor, no. Bloody hell, no." Releasing his grip in the wooden edge, Spike moved across the room to kneel beside the couch next to the still-sleeping girl. "I can't lose my niblet, she's all I got left." The despair in his voice spurred Giles to action. If it had been any of the girls or maybe even Xander, that tone in their voice would have called for a hug. But it was Spike, and that was a different situation entirely.

Carefully laying a hand on Spike's shoulder, Giles put as much tenderness in his voice as he'd put heat a few moments before. "She's not all you have left, Spike. We're all here for you. I'm here for you."

The kneeling man stayed silent a moment then slowly raised a hand to cover Giles' on his shoulder. "Thank you, Giles." Well, maybe it wasn't such a bad night after all. Two hours of British sitcoms later Giles wandered up to bed, leaving Spike stretched out on the sofa with a blanket.


	2. the complicated comforts of home

Chapter two: Complicated comforts of home.

-- Spike woke sometime in the early afternoon with a small hand in front of his eyes. Dawn stood before him with a coffee cup and a box. "We don't have any Wheetabix, but Giles sent you some Wheat thins."

A quick check out of the corner of his eye said all the blinds were closed and Spike sat up to take the cup. "Thanks, pet, it's just the right temp." Pushing aside the blanket he didn't remember wrapping up in, he crumbled a few crackers into his warmed pig's blood. "So, we got any plans today?"

At the puzzled look in her face, Spike motioned his chin to the windows. "I can' leave until sunset, can I? So what do we wanna do?" Taking his first sip, he winced a little. Wheat thins were nowhere near as good as Wheetabix, but it still improved the taste of the blood. The bloke was certainly handy to have around.

"I've got some stuff to do in my room right now, but if you're gonna be staying here a lot, we could go get your stuff from the crypt at sunset." There was a little smile on her lips that warmed his unbeating heart. Dawn wanted him to stay. And recent actions on the part of the watcher would seem to say he wouldn't mind. It must've been Giles who had put him on the couch and covered him up, 'cause the last thing Spike remembered was seeing the opening credits of Red Dwarf from the armchair. Blood warmed to just above body temp. He loved the girl, no doubt about it, but Dawn always overheated the blood and Giles heated it perfectly. Sending him Wheat thins. The tenderness he heard in the watcher's voice with the words 'I'm here for you.' The way the touch of a warm hand on his shoulder made everything a little better. The way Giles had included both Spike and himself as part of Dawn's real family. This place already felt more like a home than his crypt. Maybe Giles would even watch Passions with him. "If it's alright with the watcher, sounds like a good plan to me, pet."

"He's the one that suggested it, so I'll be ready to go at full dark." Spike sat there holding his cooling blood, shell-shocked as Dawn scampered up the stairs with a spring in her step.

Giles suggested that he move in. Giles wanted him, Spike, William the bloody vampire, to move in. This, this suggestion was so much more than a hand on the shoulder, comforting 

words, or a much needed slap in the face. This was... Spike didn't know what exactly it was but it was more than he'd ever been offered before. It was a place to belong; it was... family. And Giles, who had tried to stake him more times than either man could count, was backhandedly offering him something he hadn't found in his more than a century of unlife.

Setting his cold blood on the coffee table, Spike sat back against the couch cushions and glanced at the down to the kitchen. Bloody hell, how do you thank someone for this.

Spike, help Giles. Spike nodded at the sound of Willow's voice in his head, hurrying towards the scent of Giles' cologne. He should have been disturbed that he recognized the scent of it, and the scent of the skin under it without thought. He should have wondered about the reasons behind the urgency in his step. But Spike didn't, couldn't. The breathing he'd fallen asleep hearing last night wasn't in the right rhythm. Probably because the vamp standing in front of the watcher had the handle of an axe pressed across his throat. Nobody hurts Rupert Giles, not when I'm around.

Stepping up close, Spike grabbed the vamp and met Giles's eyes. Those eyes asked for help and he forced himself to slow down. He was not this eager to help Giles. The disturbance in Giles' breathing didn't matter that much to him, it couldn't. Spike was a big, bad vampire, The Big Bad and the sound of Giles choking meant absolutely nothing to him, really. Wrapping himself in indifference, he stepped back from the vampire and the shocked widening of Giles' eyes. Casually lighting a cigarette, Spike heard Willow again, more urgent this time.

Spike, help Giles! Shutting off the lighter, he looked away from the eyes glaring at him over the vamp's shoulder.

"I already did." Fire swept up the attacker's clothing and Giles stumbled forward as the weight pressed against him turned to dust. Spike stared down at the coughing, gasping watcher, trying to ignore the relief he felt at hearing the heartbeat and breathing returning to normal.

"It would have been nice to know your plan, Spike."

"Yeah well, what can I say. I'm unpredictable." Reaching down a hand, he unceremoniously pulled the watcher to his feet, swiftly releasing his hand. Giles, Spike. Anya and Xander need help, Northeast corner, by the fence. Leaning down, Spike lifted the axe and 

handed it back to its rightful owner. "Should take better care of your weapons, Giles, next time..."

He heard something in his own voice and stopped. The words on the tip of his tongue 'I might not be there.' couldn't be allowed out for more reasons than Spike was willing to consider. Turning away, he looked straight ahead and walked towards the emergency that was far less complicated. The demons outside were simpler than the ones inside.

It shouldn't hurt like this, should it? Giles rubbed his throat with one hand even though that wasn't where the real pain was located. That was divided between the spot between his eyes and a spot just inside his ribs. The sight of those blue eyes indifferently watching him try to breathe around the handle of an axe, that hurt. It hurt a lot. No, it didn't hurt. He and Spike were only allies for Dawn's sake, there was nothing else between them. Felling the jerk on his hand, Giles hurried to stand, moving away stiffly.

"Should take better care of your weapons, Giles. Next time..."

Spike stopped suddenly and Giles stopped too. He could hear something in Spike's voice, in the silence instead of the words. He could see something in his face, a crack in the indifference Spike wore like a trench. Giles had see Spike's facades crack, but only for the people that mattered to him: namely the Summers girls. And apparently...me.

Then, as if Spike had seen the crack himself, he turned and stalked off without another word, leaving Giles behind him with his face twisted with puzzlement. The mixture of the slow rescue and the real emotion left him completely baffled but somehow eased the aches he felt, both in his throat and elsewhere.

With his axe in a firm grip, Giles followed Spike's pale hair and dark clothes through the cemetery. They still had work to do. Sleep was hard to come by and Giles was already awake when the early morning sunlight hit him in the face. And he was still trying not to think, rather unsuccessfully.

"Maybe a cup of tea will clear my head." And if he remembered correctly, there was a sinkful of dirty dishes waiting for him in the kitchen, conveniently close to the teapot. And the ibuprofen bottle. Pushing aside the sheets, Giles reached blindly for the glasses on the night stand. With the world in better focus, at least visually, he found a bathrobe and moved carefully 

down the stairs. If he could stand the taste of them, one of those sickening sweet mochas the girls were always drinking sounded pretty good right now. Tea just did not have enough caffeine for how he felt right now. Maybe if he drank the whole pot... Giles turned the corner and almost took off his glasses to clean them. The kitchen was spotless, not a dirty dish in sight. The counters were practically scrubbed. Moving woodenly to the cupboard, he took out and filled the teapot, his mind suddenly whirling even without caffeine. If it had just been the dishes, he might think Dawn was being nice or she wanted something.

But this, the amount of work done in this room, was more than he'd expect from her. That conclusion made, his brain hurt with questions. Had Spike cleaned the kitchen? It must have been him, but why? What could possibly make Spike spend hours cleaning? Dawn would never notice, and Spike knew her well enough to know it. It wasn't for the girl, though Giles knew Spike would do anything for her. He'd seen Spike's crypt, and the vamp didn't clean much for fun or for himself.

That could only mean...It must have been for me. Lifting his "Kiss the Librarian" mug to his lips, Giles remembered the look on Spike's face as he stopped midsentence and stalked away. He remembered the feel of a cool hand over his on Spike's shoulder. Giles remembered the quiet hours before dawn, sitting together sharing jokes and British humor. He remembered the panic he'd thought he'd seen in those blue eyes as Spike had rushed up behind his vampire attacker. Could it be that Spike... No, maybe not.

Maybe Dawn had decided to spruce up because Spike had moved in. Maybe that was what had happened. A rumpled brunette padded into the kitchen and Giles looked up. Maybe that was a simpler explanation, one that wouldn't confuse him so.

"Dawn, I wanted to thank you for all the work you've done in the kitchen." She looked up from pouring strawberry milk over cinnamon flavored cereal. Another of her odd food inventions.

"But I didn't do it, Giles, not even the dishes." Settling in at the table, Dawn casually ate. "It must've been Spike." Bloody hell, must it always be so complicated?

It was dawn and Spike knew sleep still wouldn't come easy. Hours of constant movement, cleaning the kitchen, hoping the activity and noise would drown out the thoughts circling his brain, and he still couldn't stop or sleep. But Spike could still hear them, over the movement and 

the noise. He could hear them now, like they were voices whispering from the basement's shadows. It was times like these that Spike missed killing.

The hunt, the lure, the victim's fear and the hot sweet flow of blood could drown out anything, even his own mind. Sodding chip, Bloody humans and their bleeding trust in me.

Spike told himself that it was the look he'd see on Dawn's face that kept him in line. And he did care about her reaction, but it was Giles's face that kept wandering across his mind. No, none of this had anything to do with Giles.

A sharp turn and Spike found himself facing Buffy's old punching bag. Giles must have moved it out of the training room in the magic shop. Too many memories. Dragging the bag out into the middle of the room, Spike grinned. If he couldn't kill anyone, at least he could beat the bloody stuffing out of something. His mind quieted slightly after the first few blows and an evil smile curved his lips. Then, without his conscious knowledge, the punching bag slowly took on the mental overlay of a dark, broad, muscular vampire. Maybe one that had been holding an axe across someone's throat in a cemetery... last night.

As the picture sharpened, it suffered the increasing force of his punches, kicks and jabs. Something like panic filled his blood, pounding like his heart could beat. An unneeded breath burst past his lips in a cross between a shout and pained groan. Nobody hurts Giles!

His fist hit the bag hard enough to split a seam and sand streamed to the floor to gather in a pile. Spike fell to his knees with his hands dangling nervelessly at his sides.

Dammit, he cared. Spike cared about the stuffy former watcher and there was simply no avoiding or denying it. The last time the thought of someone dying had buggered him up like this, it had been Buffy and Dawn. Before them, in the earlier years, Druzilla had mattered that much to him. But, Rupert Giles...shouldn't have that much of a hold on him. Rupert Giles shouldn't inspire this level of concern, of worry, of mind-numbing, gut-wrenching panic at the thought of his death. At the thought of Rupert Giles getting hurt or killed.

Or leaving.

Slumping further, Spike cupped a palm under the falling sand, his bloody knuckles dripping red into the pile below. It would hurt almost as much to watch Giles leave as it would be to see him die. Spike wanted to spend time with Giles. He would miss the touch of a warm hand 

on his shoulder, on his skin, if he couldn't feel it anymore. He would miss those crooked smiles and quiet chuckles. He'd miss seeing Giles clean his glasses and watching British comedies together. Spike cared. And now that the thought had finally caught up with him, he could stop the constant movement and noise.

Running wouldn't help him anymore. He didn't know if anything would.

God, I need a drink.

Glancing at the basement's window, Spike decided it was still early enough. Rupert and Dawn should still be sleeping and if this house had any alcohol, by God, he'd find it. Quietly creeping up the stairs, Spike checked out the door for the blinds, all safely closed. Rummaging through the kitchen turned up nothing stronger than caffeine. And caffeine was just not enough to drown out the damnably insistent train of thought circling his brain.

Cursed, bloody sunlight, I could go get roaring drunk if not for it. There had to be something here. One step past the dining room door, Spike was stopped short by two of the best things he'd ever smelled: Giles without aftershave and good whiskey.

Spike mentally kicked himself for the thought. No, it was only the whiskey that smelled good, not Giles' skin without that horrid stuff Dawn had bought him for Christmas. He didn't like or think about the scent of Giles' neck or the faint shadow of morning stubble along his jaw.

Of course Spike didn't react like that to the watcher. It was just the alcohol --anyone with alcohol would be a great sight this morning. By the scent alone he could tell that it was some damn good whiskey Giles was pouring into his tea. And good liquor was always worth a double take. That's all it was. The lie Spike told himself fell apart a little when Giles noticed him in the door... and looked away.

"Morning, Spike. Can't sleep?" The way Giles avoided his eyes made the need for alcohol all the more intense. Pain was like that.

"Nah, just need a drink before bed. Spare a shot or two, watcher?" Spike wasn't thinking about how that tea and whiskey might taste on Giles' lips. He wasn't and that was that, however much his mind might try to disagree. And it still hurt when Giles didn't look at him. He liked seeing those eyes. No, of course he didn't. He didn't like those eyes at all.

"Not much there, but help yourself." Eyes still averted, Giles slid the flask across the table toward the vampire.

"Thanks," Spike's eyes watched as Giles took another sip and nervously pulled his bathrobe tighter around his throat. Taking a swallow from the flask, Spike missed meeting those eyes and mourned (as he tried not to mourn) the closing of fabric over the strong lines of that throat.

"Well, I should go get dressed." With that Giles disappeared out the door and up the stairs. And Spike finished off the whiskey, trying to tell himself he didn't care. Not really.

Giles felt eyes on him, felt someone watching him. It was Spike, he knew that. And he looked away. Giles had to, it simply couldn't be helped. Because if he looked at Spike now, he'd have to admit it. Not to Spike, of course. Giles would have to admit to himself that the pale man in the door was the reason behind the flask in his hand, the whiskey flowing into his tea, and the twenty minute search it had taken in the kitchen to find any liquor at all in the house. So he looked away and spoke to break the awkward silence. "Morning, Spike. Can't sleep?"

The all too identifiable white and black blur at the edge of his vision shook its head. "Nah, just need a drink before bed. Spare a shot or two, watcher?" Still focusedly keeping his eyes on the table, Giles tried not to wish that Spike would say his name. 'Watcher' was so distant. No, 'watcher', was just fine. Spike didn't need to get any closer. Giles didn't need him closer in any way.

"Not much there, but help yourself." He slid the flask across the table. Otherwise Spike would take a step closer and reach for it. And Giles might have to look at him. Or even touch his hand. The hand that had waited to save his life but had then helped up to his feet and held on a little longer than necessary. The hand that crossed into the clearer focus of his glasses with a bright red smear across the knuckles. Blood, Spike's blood. Spike was injured. And it wasn't from last night.

Sadly, Giles admitted to himself, he would have noticed it as he had watched Spike all night. Giles had stared at the vamp when he wasn't looking, just trying to figure it out. Trying to understand what he'd thought he'd seen in Spike's face. Giles could feel the concerned words on the tip of his tongue and swallowed them back. Closing his robe, he looked away again, 

mumbling some excuse to leave the room.

He had to, otherwise he'd have to look at Spike. To ask him if he was all right. He might have to admit to himself that it mattered. That the wound on the back of Spike's hand worried him. That he wanted to know the why's behind what Spike had done, in the cemetery, in the kitchen. That those why's mattered to him.

So Giles fled, because he had to.The sight of that blood on that pale skin stayed with him as he walked up the stairs. The urge to go back down and bandage the wound coiled its way through his ribs. Giles fought it to a compromise. He would not go back down to take care of Spike himself, but he would make certain someone did. And Spike would get cared for."Dawn,"

Giles rapped on her bedroom door, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music she had on."Yeah, Giles." His favorite brunette gave him a little smile as she opened the door. Giles couldn't help but smile back.

Dawn had been doing so much better since Spike had moved in. They all had. "Dawn, Spike has hurt his hand. Would you be a dear and go help him bandage it?"

"Is he okay?" She leaned farther out into the hallway, looking down the stairs with concern written on her face.

"It's not serious, pet...uh, Dawn. But it's not easy to wrap one's own hand. And don't forget to take some gauze."

"Sure, like we don't have enough gauze in this house to mummify half of Sunnydale." Cocking an eyebrow in an expression comfortingly like those of a few months ago, Dawn brushed past Giles heading for the bathroom and its sizable first aid kit.

Three steps down the hall, Giles turned sharply. "Just don't mummify Spike, it'd be a waste of bandages." The smile on her face wasn't comforting at all as she laughed and walked backwards up the hall.

"But he'd be so cute all wrapped up in white gauze."

Yes, Spike's eyes would be simply gorgeous framed by all the pale cloth. White cotton sheets would do wonders for those eyes and that skin. The words that had passed through his brain suddenly stopped in front of his mind's eye. And he couldn't help but see what he'd thought.

What? No, he did not just think about how pretty Spike's eyes were. He did not just imagine that pale skin wrapped in something other than its normal black and red. Giles wished he could blame this sudden insanity on alcohol but he couldn't, not even having finished one cup. God he wanted another drink. Polishing his glasses, Giles turned away and walked to his room at a slow pace. Maybe his mind would obey him if he managed to exert control over his body. No, he wasn't concerned or confused over Spike at all.

And that was that.


	3. too much thinking and a monster crisis

Chapter 3: Too much thinking and a monster crisis

"Spike?"

He set down the now empty teacup and moved to the door. "Yeah, pet?" Automatically licking the blood on the back of his wrist, Spike pushed the swinging door open and follow Dawn's voice into the dining room.

"Sit down, Spike, and let me...eewwww." She'd glanced up from the supplies in her hands just in time to see him lick his own blood off his skin. "That's disgusting, Spike."

"What, pet? Blood's blood to me, I'm a vampire. 'Sides, I taste pretty good if I don't say so myself." He put a massive dose of humor in his face and voice just to watch her react. Spike loved that little eyebrow arch she did when she wasn't buying his bullshit. Yup, there went the eyebrow and her lips twitched. That's my skeptical girl.

"Spike, you are one twisted vampire. Now sit down and give me your hand."Settling onto a chair, he stretched his wrist across the table and grinned up at the brunette that had a real smile on her face.

"Have I ever denied it, pet?"Dawn just rolled her eyes and opened the disinfectant. Sitting, she dabbed at his bloody knuckles with the gauze.

"Giles didn't say what happened to your hand, so what fool thing were you doing, Spike?"

He snorted, "You've been hanging around the watcher too much, pet, thinking I did something idiotic." Spike squeezed her fingers, watching her concentrate over the back of his hand. "Is that what you really think?"

"I think you're a guy. And all you guys do stupid stuff. Testosterone poisoning, I guess." Wrapping the gauze around his hand, Dawn quirked the corner of her lips at him. "Even Giles does stupid things. So what did you do, Spike?"

He ducked his head and rolled his eyes up at her, puppy dog like. "I had a go at the punching bag."

"And you didn't wrap your hands first." She smirked at him, setting his wrist back on the table. "And you're telling me it wasn't a fool thing to do. Men." Dawn reached out. "Let me see the other hand and don't even tell me the bag looks worse than you do."Spike couldn't help the smile on his face.

He loved it when Dawn would spar and joke with him. Stretching his other arm towards her, he hit the barb back. "Well, you should see it. The bag's bleeding sand all over the basement floor and I barely broke skin."

"Well at least you didn't get both hands bloody." Prodding the skin over his knuckles with her fingertips, she glanced up. "Just bruised. So what's up with you guys?"

"We guys?" What had the watcher told her? For that matter what did the watcher know? Spike mentally shook his head. Unspoken confusion between people didn't usually get relayed to a third party. Add in the English reserve and Spike decided he was jumping to conclusions. Suspicious vampire. "What're you talking about, pigeon?"

"You and Giles." So much for being suspicious.

Casual, no need to be obvious. Though about what, he couldn't or wouldn't consider. "You're not making sense, luv."

Dawn squeezed his hand and shook her head at him. "Don't act like I'm as blind as you're trying to be. Have you and Giles even stayed in a room together for five minutes in the last week?"

Her hold on his hand seemed to somehow force his eyes to meet hers. Since when did the human girl have control over the vampire? "Well, of course we 'ave."

"Yeah, that's why he left the kitchen so quickly and sent me back down to take care of 

your hand. Am I that prized for my ace-bandaging?" She tugged at his wrist, at the serviceable but certainly not stellar first aid job. "That's why he sent me, oh-so-subtly, with your morning blood to suggest you move in. That's why you, Spike spent half the night cleaning the kitchen and then beat up an innocent piece of training equipment. Yeah, now who's not making sense." Dawn stood up and stared down at the vampire who suddenly wouldn't meet her eyes. "So when the denial wears off and you're ready to talk, Spike, you know where to find me." Brushing a kiss against his forehead, she moved to the door.

"Uh, Dawn?" Spike looked at her, waited for her to turn and face him. It was important to see her face right now. "Have youhave you talked about this to Giles?"

She smiled, compassion on her lips. "No, he's deeper in denial than you are. " There was only the smallest of quirks on her eyebrow. "Giles wouldn't even know what I was talking about. Or he wouldn't admit it."

Spike helplessly watched the brunette leave the room before forcibly uncurling his fingers. Only the layers of gauze covering his palm kept his short nails from piercing his skin. It wasn't easy to keep denying something when others insisted on confronting him about it, especially Dawn. She'd always been able to smack reason into him. Some blows were just harder to recover from than others. He's even deeper in denial than you are.

Spike blinked. It was also easier to lie to himself when he believed the object of his.confusionsdidn't feel a thing. But denial required something to deny. Giles had something to deny if Dawn was right. Giles might, just might, be feeling some of the same things Spike was. But Spike would bet his canines that Giles hadn't been thinking about, imagining, the things he had. How a kiss or a touch would feel, taste. About the touch of hands over his skin, a voice whispering in his ear. Giles couldn't have been imagining that.could he?

Spike remembered the way Rupert had tugged his robe closed in the kitchen, the way he'd pulled away so abruptly in the cemetery, the way he'd avoided looking Spike in the eyes. Had Giles pulled back for the same reasons Spike had, a fear of just how much he wanted to get closer?

"Cor, I'm losing my bloody marbles." Shaking his head, Spike tried to shove everything back down inside and lock it up. Alcohol would make the lid close so much easier and there wasn't enough sunlight in the whole world to keep him in this house. Nodding sharply to himself, Spike grabbed his trench, pulled it up over his head and sprinted out the front door to the nearest sewer entrance. His body took the tunnels to a demon bar on autopilot. The brain wasn't allowed to think at all right now. It couldn't be trusted.

Giles stood before the bathroom mirror and tilted his head back. There was a faint bruise coloring the skin over his Adam's apple. And from experience he knew it would get darker before it started to fade. Closing the top few buttons of his shirt, Giles sent up a little thank you that he no longer had a job where they might ask him about his regular injuries. No one to joke with him about an abusive girlfriendor boyfriend. In his mind, he felt Spike's eyes hot on the skin of his throat, felt his own hands opening the collar instead of closing it, felt cool lips and the sharp sweet pain of a new scar..felt his back hit the wall as he jerked away from the mirror and out of the image.

"Sweet mother of god" One hand lifted up to cover the pounding heart beat in his neck. To cover the bite mark he could feel even though it wasn't there. Or maybe he was trying to hide the pulse pounding through more than just his neck, trying to tell himself that it was fear that made his heart race like it did. "No, I did not think about anything. No, nothing at all."

Straightening his collar, Giles pushed a door in his head shut and locked it, with maybe a heavy silver cross on it for safety. "Why, I think the attic could use a good cleaning. Right then, there's work to do." Hours of constant movement and activity later, he wiped a dusty hand over a sweaty forehead and sat back on his heels. Giles had moved, restacked, and strained his knees lifting every box in this attic. And all he could say was it wasn't enough, his mind was still fiddling at the chained door. And he knew that Joyce had known how to pack a mean box. Heavy too.

But the lock on that damned door was still rattling and that simply would not do. So there must be more to do, more work somewhere. The basement? .pale skin and paler hair bare above white sheets. Those chains still embedded in the wall above the cot.

NOOO, no no no no, not the basement. Never the basement. His face brightened as an idea hit him. The den. When Giles have moved in, he'd brought all his research books. They were scattered all over what had been Joyce's office.

The den could use a good librarian's touch and right here was a good librarian just dying to get his hands on something the lock rattled just dying to get busy with his handsthe cross rattleduhjust needing not to think right now. Carefully rising to his feet, Giles moved down the folding stairs in the attic floor and crept into the den.

Ah, The familiar musty scent of books started releasing the tension in his shoulders. Demon lore will save me, demon lore always saves me. Over the years, research had been the place he'd buried all his emotional crises and now was no different.

Three blissfully mindless hours later, afternoon was half way to sunset and the chaos inside the den was interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name, Dawn's. "Giles, come here!"

Opening the door, he poked a smudged face into the hallway. "What is it, luv? Uh, Dawn."

"Something on the news that you should see, Giles, hurry up." Giles shook his head at himself, he'd been hearing 'luv' and 'pet' on his own lips more than he'd ever admit, even to himself.

He stopped in the living room doorway. "You're watching the news." It wasn't a question, but the amazement in his voice turned her eyes from the TV screen.

"Hey, I live in Sunnydale. Some big bad goes on a murderous rampage every 60 days. Of course I watch the news." Dawn rolled her eyes and smile softly. "And there's nothing else on. But back to the point. Scooby emergency on the news."

Giles's eyes followed hers back to the screen as he sat down and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Demons, vampires, zombies, what's the underworld's special today?"

"I can't tell, but it's big. And violent."

"They always are." But even Giles's eyes widened as two cops flew backwards out of the building, luck landing them on the grass instead of the cement. He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer against his side protectively. "Very violent. Have they got a good look at it yet?"

"Just a scaly, clawed hand in one of the windows. Definitely a Scooby case. What should we do, Giles?"

"Research first, I should think. Dawn, fetch Spike from the basement, maybe he'll recognize it. Scales, you said? I'll get the reptilian demon books."

He was on his feet and two steps from the couch when Dawn caught his wrist."Uh, Giles?"

"What, Dawn? Not sure it has scales?" She didn't look at him. Why wouldn't Dawn meet his eyes? It was bad that she looked away, wasn't it?

"No, no it had scales, GilesIt's just that, uh, Spike's not in the basement." Dawn glanced up at him to see the look on his face. Little to his knowledge, Dawn had a great many reasons to analyze his reactions. Not to mention a smaller amount of hope to find something in Giles that could becomesomething more.

"What?" Giles turned, oblivious to her scrutiny. "Where has he gone?" His eyes automatically slid across the room to the coat rack by the front door, to the bare wooden hook that was usually covered by a signature leather trench. "In broad daylight, no less. Why?"

Turning to her, Giles felt her eyes burning through the skin of his face."I don't know, really." The strangely blank but attentive expression on her face was oddly mesmerizing and he found himself unable to look away. Since when did Dawn have the power to hold a man's attention like this? "I wrapped his hand and we talked. Spike seemed upset and when I came back down after putting away the first aid kit, the front door was open and his jacket was gone." Dawn's head tilted to the side and her eyes remained locked on his. "Do you know what's up with him?"

She could have nailed him to the wall in the silence after her question. Her eyes nearly did. Do I know? Giles saw that look in Spike's eyes again, the panic and worry he'd thought he'd seen in those blue eyes, in the cemetery. He remembered the crack he'd thought he'd heard in Spike's voice. He remembered the way those blue eyes had seemed to try to catch his over a flask of whiskeyNo, it couldn't be that. "No, Dawn, I don't know what could be wrong with Spike." Polishing his glasses, Giles managed to look away from Dawn's eyes, trying to hidesomething he couldn't or wouldn't name by turning his back. "Whatever the case, we'll need his help. Dawn, you stay here in case he comes back. I'll" he reached out with one hand to grab up his coat. "and I'll go look for Spike."

Closing the door behind him, Giles didn't see the smile on her face as he left.Two seedy demon bars later, there was still no sign of the bleached vamp. Standing at the door of the third, 

Giles watched the last light fade on the horizon. Two bars searched that were full of smoke, beer and far too many eyes trailing him and his beating pulse the through the crowds. All for nothing. The third bar (yes, there were more than three exclusively non-human bars in town and he expected to get just as much attention in several more of them tonight) stood before him, and Giles sighed, pushing open the swinging door and bracing himself for the turning heads and other appendages.

Only this time, Giles felt one pair of eyes snap to him with the sudden speed of a gunshot, then just as quickly slink away. "Spike," He stopped short, hearing almost a growl in his own voice as he turned towards the only eyes in entire room that were turned away from his. His feet moved him across the room towards the blonde head lowered over a half-empty beer glass. Before Giles even realized it, his hands had grabbed the shoulders of a leather trench and jerked

Spike to his feet and around to face him."What in the bloody hell were you thinking, man?" The growl in his voice kept the sound quiet but only accentuated the anger kept barely in check. "You left! In the middle of broad daylight, you left without a word, without a note!" The muscles in his arms tightened and loosened on their own, shaking Spike for reasons he couldn't explain.

Spike raised both hands and broke Giles's hold in his jacket, stepping back unsteadily.

"What do you care, Watcher? You. You haven't looked at me for days? What do you care where I am?"

"Because" Giles stopped. He couldn't answer because the words that tried to climb up his throat could not be allowed out his mouth. Because then he would have to admit it to himself. "Because of Dawn!" That would work as a reason for his anger, protectiveness of Dawn. "You left her alone and now there's a demon ripping up banks downtown. You left her unprotected and now I've had to search three bars for your undead arse!"

Giles watched the concern chase the drunken expression off Spike's face from only a few feet away even as his body nearly tripped. "She has beenhurt? I'll kill that thing that touched a hair on that girl's head." Spike recovered from the trip with the slamming of one of his fists on the bar, stepping forward with protective rage written in the tensing of every hard muscle in that pale, lean body. That beautiful, pale body.

No. Giles shook his head forcefully, trying to shove that visual image back behind the door with its silver chains and crosses. Realizing that his gesture was more to himself than to Spike, he searched his mind for the question he'd been asked and an appropriate answer. "No, the bot's with her. She's perfectly safe back at the house." Giles looked away from the relief in those blue eyes, fingers wrapped comfortingly in the chain of the cross in his pocket. "But with a demon still on the loose, that could change."

"So you came searching for the one man you need.me."The one man I need? ..No, I don't need him. I don't need Spike .or anything from Spike. No need, no needing. "Uh, yeah."

"So let's go kill ourselves a demon 'fore he makes a try for our niblet."Giles felt sheer relief at the eager violence on Spike's face. Violence was, in its own odd way, safer than everything he'd seen or thought he'd seen on that pale face for days.

"Right then, demon hunting it is. Weapons are out in the car. Let's go."In the time Giles had been Spike-hunting, the scaled demon had moved from the buildings downtown to the empty streets near then docks, seeming to be quite fond of throwing around the large shipping crates like they were game dice.

"Demons," Spike shook his head as the car swerved to avoid yet another falling shipping hazard. "All destructive violence, no creativity." One pale hand braced against the dashboard as the car took another sharp curve, dark-painted nails digging into the vinyl. A small, hidden, dark part of Giles's mind felt those black nails raise light welts along the skin of his back as their lips were./No, not thinking about a particular demon's creativity./ Determinedly focusing on driving, he mentally fastened another cross on the closet in his head.

Haphazardly parking in the relative safety under a balcony, Giles tore his eyes away from those hands, focusing instead on his own as he moved to the car trunk and its weapons. A shudder forced its way along his back as Giles felt Spike move up to his side. "You want the pike?"

"No, I'll take the ax." Giles hefted the familiar weight of his favorite ax into his grip, still determinedly looking away from the fluid movement with which Spike spun the long staff around his hands. Those strong, pale hands that could feel so go-- /No, we have a demon to fight. Task at hand./ Turning aside, he rested the flat of his ax on his shoulder, pacing hurriedly toward the crashing sounds around the corner of the building. Giles could still feel Spike mere feet away, walking towards the coming fight like violence wrapped in skin.

"Come on, Watcher, let's kill ourselves a demon." Swinging the heavy shaft attached to his blade, Spike stalked ahead of Giles, leaving him a particularly nice view of a muscular, leather-clad back. A view he pretended to ignore as the fighting started. Dawn's reptilian demon lifted yet another crate above its head. A mere second later the wood shattered against the ground between Giles and Spike, forcing the Watcher to finally focus on the demon just in time to see it snap the wooden length of Spike's weapon in its claws and lift the pale vamp above its head and 

throw him.

"Spike!"The thud of Spike landing on the far side of the demon got lost in the sound of Giles shouting his name, rushing the demon with ax raised. Slashing at the claws that reached out for him, he tried to see around the scaly wall of ribs to check on Spike. /Spike?/ Trying not to hear the panic in his own head, Giles forced the demon back a step with a slice of the ax-blade through a layer of scales into flesh. Another swing of the ax, another small retreat of the demon and Giles hollered, "Spike!" around a scaly shoulder.

Then his breath stopped in his throat and his heart leapt in his chest as Spike stalked closer, a blade in one hand and black leather framing a pale, hard muscled chest. Bloody gorgeous. Before his eyes were willing to move away from the sculpted lines of that chest, a flash of green scales crossed in front of them and blackness quickly followed./Bloody hell, knocked unconscious again./ Forcing his heavy eyelids up, Giles tried to push a breath out through a constricted throat.

"Spike?" He tried not to think about the level of emotion in his own voice, pretending it was just the roughness injuries always put in his throat.

"I'm here, Watcher."A pale face leaned over him and Giles choked back a sigh of relief. Spike wasn't hurt.

"And the demon?" Trying to prop himself up on his elbows, he gave up and laid back down. The bundle under his head shifted and leather pressed cold against the bare skin at the back of his neck. Spike's trench. Which meant that it wasn't on Spike's body at the time. On their own, and in direct defiance to the repeated commands of his brain, his eyes followed the bare skin of Spike's neck to the bare skin of his shoulders, arms, chest, and waist. /Such lovely skin./

"Knackered. He won't be waking upwell, ever." Leaning closer, Spike wore concern on his face and touched fingertips to the edge of Giles' temple. "How's the head?"

Giles shivered at the light touch and turned away to avoid the emotion in Spike's face and the matching feelings rising in his own throat. "II'm fine. Thank you." Struggling to his knees, he almost fell back to the pavement until a lean body wedged itself under his arm. Spike's arm tightened around his waist, reinforcing knees that were suddenly weakened for a new reason, the feel of hard muscles and smooth skin under his hand.

"Not looking too fine, Rupert. That demon knock more than blood outta your skull?" Pale fingers rose to the wound on his forehead then, red-tipped, touched Spike's lips. A nimble tongue flicked out to taste Giles' blood. And Giles felt every ounce of the blood still in his body leap involuntarily, his heart beginning to race at the sight of the pleasure on Spike's face. Those gorgeous blue eyes locked to his, apparently waiting for an answer.

But what Giles saw in themterrified him and he looked away. "It was just another head injury, Spike, I'll be fine."


	4. realizations and confessions

Chapter 4: Realizations and confessions.

"Knackered. He won't be waking upwell, ever." Spike leaned closer over the injured man, one hand moving on its own to touch him, to feel the warm skin that meant Giles was alive. It comforted him. The sight of the watcher falling bonelessly to the ground had dragged pained outrage from his throat and every muscle in his body. The demon had never had a chance. And Giles was alive. /Thank God./ "How's the head?"

Spike swallowed back a moment of disappointment as Giles rolled away from his hand, breaking the connection of touch. But he thought he'd seen a shiver tremble through that body. "II'm fine. Thank you." Was that roughness in Giles' voice physical painor something else?

Giles made it up onto his knees before he started to pitch back to the ground. /Damn stubborn bloke./ Following more than one emotional urge, Spike dove under a flailing hand to wrap one arm around his waist and shore up his watcher. That hand flexed against his shoulder and Spike tremblingly breathed unneeded air at the heat of that palm on his skin. In that breath he smelled again two of his favorite things. This time it was the smell of Giles' skin and human blood.

/God, he smells good./ And was that? No, it couldn't be. Could it? Spike dragged in a deep breath as if to speak and smelled it. /Cor, it is./ It was the warm musk of a man feeling desire. And it was coming from Giles. He had to be sure. There was too much at stake to not know for certain before doing something about it. And did he ever want to do something about this.

"Not looking too fine, Rupert. That demon knock more than blood outta your skull?" Burying the gesture in casual movement, Spike raised two fingertips to the blood at Giles' temple, flicking out his tongue to taste/Sweet Bloody hell./ Arousal flared over his taste buds at the same time as the pulse in the wrist pressed against his shoulder leapt and raced. Rupert Giles, Watcher and Demon-fighter, got all hot and bothered at a bleached blonde vamp tasting his blood and touching him. And Spike loved knowing it, locking his eyes to Giles'.

The warm body pressed against Spike's trembled even as those eyes, full of heat, turned away. "It was just another head injury, Spike, I'll be fine."/'Course you will, my watcher. Ol' Spike'll make sure of that. / Tightening his arm around his watcher's waist, Spike pulled his 

heat closer, listening to his heartbeat. That blood never slowed its frantic pace during the entire trip home. And Spike felt each and every beat of it. Spike stopped the car in front of the Summers' house, pocketing the keys to close the door behind him.

Outside the car it was harder to hear the heartbeat that fascinated him. Moving quickly around the hood, he pulled open Giles' door and reached in a hand. "Let's get you inside, Rupert." Those eyes followed the bare skin of his arm up then down his body. That adam's apple bobbed and those hands clenched. Spike smiled at the sound of the watcher's heart speeding up again.

"II can walk, Spike." Then those eyes turned sharply away as Giles moved carefully out of the car to walk towards the front door. /Go on, Watcher, try to deny it. Wait 'til I get you indoors and alone. We'll see how long you hold out./ Spike grinned once Giles wasn't facing him, letting all the desire and plans he had for the man write themselves across his lips. /This will be so much fun./

The front door opened and Dawn met them at the top of the porch steps with a concerned expression on her face. "Giles, Spike. Did you find the demon?"

"Yeah, pet, we found your demon and gave 'im a good heave-ho outta the land of the living." Spike caught up that step or two to reach Giles' side, tossing an arm around his shoulders. "Our watcher here caught himself a fist to the head. Get the door, would you, luv?"

Even though his eyes were locked on Dawn's face, all Spike's attention was on the hitch in Rupert's breathing and pulse. "Oh, of course," Dawn turned to the house, opening the door and heading quickly up the stairs. "I'll get the first aid kit."

"Spry little girl we've got there," Spike turned to look at Rupert's face from less than a foot away and fought the urge to lean closer. /Wait, wait until the niblet goes to bed./

Giles turned, pulling away from Spike's arm when Dawn was out of sight and lowered himself into a chair."It's not that serious, I'm fine." His face brightened and he started to stand. "In fact, I'll just go to bed and worry about this scratch in the--"

"Sit down, Rupert," Spike flattened a hand against the top of his shoulder, pushing him gently back down into the chair. "Let me take care of you." Hearing his own voice, Spike watched a shiver pass along the shoulders under his hand.

"Got it," Dawn's voice was accompanied by the thumping of her feet down the stairs.

Spike, determined to get Rupert Giles alone, met her on the bottom step. "I'll take care of Rupert, pet, you go on up to bed now."

Her eyebrow quirked and her lips pursed in the 'oh, really' face Spike had never seen anyone else use quite so effectively. Her eyes flicked past his bare shoulder to Giles then back and her lips moved from disbelief to a wide grin. "Really?"

"Yes, pet, really. Now scat." Ruffling her hair, he took the supplies from her hands and nudged her back up the stairs. "And no sleepwalking tonight, luv."

"Believe me, Spike." She whispered with a smile. "Totally approving, soo not wanting to watch. Be careful with him."

"I plan to." "Good," Moving up the stairs, Dawn called out over her shoulder.

"'Night, Giles. Glad you're safe."

"Dawn?" Giles' eyes followed her up the stairs, like he was a lost camper watching the search party go the wrong way. "You're you're going to bed?"

"What, Watcher, afraid to be alone with me?" Stalking towards Giles, Spike reveled in the movement of those eyes over his body and the increasing scent of arousal floating in the air. Stopping right in front of Rupert's chair, he leaned down close, touching his fingertips to that clenched jaw. Tilting back Giles' head, Spike met his eyes. "I won't hurt you, Rupert." Sliding one hand along the line of that jaw, he raised the other to dab at the bloody gash with a piece of gauze. Under his fingers, the pulse in Giles' throat leapt and jumped. Spike could feel breath, tremblingly uneven, hitting the skin of his lips. It took every ounce of his self-control not to let his lips follow that breath back to its source. To move too quickly nowcould destroy so much. "Feel better?"

"Ye——yes, much. Thank youI'll just be going to bed, now." Giles stood, ducking under Spike's arm and heading for the stairs. "Good night," But letting Giles retreat back behind his walls, letting him build back up his denial, would be just as disastrous. /You're not getting' away so easy, Rupert./

Catching the fleeing man by one elbow, Spike pressed Giles backwards against the wall, pinning his hands on either side of his head. Those lips he'd been thinking about were so close and the heart pressed against his ribs was pounding at a frantic pace. "Just where do you think you're going, Watcher?"

Giles trembled against him, trying to find words with Spike pressed so close against him. "IupstairsSpike, why are youlet me go."

Cool hands tightened on his."Not likely, Rupert. You don't want me to let you go. Admit it." Spike breathed in deeply, wrapping himself in the scent of desire. And despite the look on Giles face, it was mostly desire, not much fear at all.

"No, I you'rethis is insane."

Still the warm body Spike pressed into the wall didn't struggle, didn't try to escape."You think I can' tell, Rupert. Smart man like you should know better. I can smell it in the air, feel it in the pounding life through your body." Spike released one of Giles' hands, raising his own to touch trembling fingers to the raw skin hear his hairline. "I tasted it in your blood, Rupert. Don't deny it. You want me." He cupped Giles' chin in his hand to stop the man from shaking his head. "I said, don' deny it, Rupert. I know you want me and you know I'd never hurt you." Releasing Giles' other hand, Spike cradled that precious face in both his palms, his eyes detailing the emotions there. Still very little fear, and that would take care of itself. "So if you want to deny it, stop it. Stop me." Blue eyes dropped from Giles' eyes to his lips and a voice got lower and rougher. "Bloody hell, I want you."

He'd been so close to him for so long and now those lips were finally going to touch his. /Rupert/ Slowly, ever so slowly, Spike moved closer to those lips, waiting to be stopped, hoping he wouldn't be. Then, warmth on his skin and Spike swallowed back a groan at the way those lips responded to his, the sweet eager hesitance of this kiss. Weakly pulling back, he stayed close enough to taste the ragged breathing against his lips."Spike,"

/Cor, that sound/ And the way Giles leaned forward with that look on his face wasn't bad either. /Hell, yes./ "Still pretending you want me to stop?" Pressing his body harder into the watcher's, Spike groaned at the feel of this man so close, so warm. /So bloody hot./ "Not holding your hands down now, Rupert. Still gonna push me away or are ya gonna admit you want this as much as I do?"

Some tension left the body pinned between his and the wall and Spike watched 

something flow over the lines of that handsome face. Warm hands slowly lowered, moving away from the wall for the first time to rest lightly against his shoulders. "Youreally want me, Spike? This isn't just some game you're playing."

Relief flooded Spike's body. The look in those eyes said it all. Smiling, he leaned closer, whispering softly against those delicious lips. "Does this" Spike pressed his hips forward into Giles', gasping at the feel of an erection hard against his own. "feel like a game to you, Rupert?"

He watched those eyes flutter shut, felt that body arch against his, felt those hands tighten on his shoulders."Spike," The sound of that voice saying his name like that made Spike groan. Then a warm hand curved around the back of his neck, and warm, sweet lips opened over his own. Spike leaned heavily against Giles and the wall, nearly collapsing into this kiss. /Sweet bloody hell, yes./

/Dear Lord/

It seemed like his mind had been stuck in a continuous loop of those two words all night and this very minute it started playing the loop even faster. Maybe it was the hard press of Spike's body against his own. Maybe it was the pale fingers trembling against the line of his throat. Maybe it was that low, rough, sexy voice saying his name, his first name like that. /Dear Lord/ Maybe it was that everything, all this felt so unbelievably good."Don' deny it, Rupert. I know you want me and you know I'd never hurt you." The second pale hand moved to his jaw and those piercing blue eyes searched for something in his face, seeming to find it at the back of his skull. "So if you want to deny it, stop it. Stop me." /Dear Lord/ Even with both hands free, Giles couldn't move. He could only watch as those eyes fell to his lips and that face moved closer. /Spike, please./ "Bloody hell, I want you."

Cool lips pressed against his own and he couldn't move for an entirely different reason this time. Giles didn't want this to end. /Dear Lord/ Closing his eyes, he eagerly returned the soft kiss. This simple touching of lips was better than any of his half-denied imaginings. Until those lips pulled back, left his achingly alone. On its own, his body tried to close that new distance between their lips. "Spike,"

"Still pretending you want me to stop?" Giles felt that body press harder into his own, driving a groan from his lungs. Against his face, he felt the air of Spike's groan. "Not holding your hands down now, Rupert. Still gonna push me away or are you gonna admit you want this 

as much as I do?"

/Dear Lord/ Finally, he could move. Resting his hands on those strong pale shoulders, Giles search Spike's face for the truth and found it. Those simply gorgeous blue eyes spoke need and want more than words ever could. "Youyou really want me. Spike. This isn't just some game you're playing." His fingers tightened, kneading the hard muscles under his hands.

A smile, a beautiful smile curved the lips Giles desperately wanted more of. Nearly close enough to taste, those lips whispered. "Does this" /Dear Lord, please, yes/ Spike arched against him, and Giles fought against swallowing his own tongue at the feel of all the proof he'd ever need to know that Spike really did want him pressing into his hip. "Feel like a game to you, Rupert?"

Stroking the skin under his palms, Giles dragged one hand up to the back of his neck. "Spike," Those lips were calling to him, and he couldn't help but answer in kind, groaning into that mouth as their tongues touched for the first time. Spike drove the last of his breath from his lungs in a harsh gasp with the amazingly thorough exploration of his mouth by lips, teeth and tongue. Giles' arms wrapped and tightened around the lean body that still wasn't close enough. "Spike, hm, Spike. Human, remember? We breathe."

Those lips pulled back about one inch. Giles both hated that small distance and eagerly dragged in air. "Fine, you breathe a bit, Rupert, I'm busy." A quick, heated grin later those lips attacked the skin of his throat, making the act of breathing even harder. His knees threatened to give out at the nibbling of blunt teeth over his pulse point and the slick glide of a tongue into the hollow of his throat.

Sliding one hand into short, bleached hair to hold him close, Giles clutched at Spike's back with the other, fighting to reinforce weak knees."Ah, Spi——" Teeth scraped lightly over his collarbone and he lost control of his voice for a second. Blinking, Giles moaned and tried again. "Spike,"

Those lips left his skin and Giles found his breathing again. For a second at best. Then Spike smiled at him and his throat closed. "What, Watcher. Remember, you're breathing and I'm busy." Black-painted nails flicked open the top button of his shirt, lightly scratching over the skin of his chest.

"Yes, breathing, I remember." Giles wrapped his arms around Spike's shoulders for support as those hands and lips continued to strip away his shirt and explore his chest. Since when had the word 'watcher' become an endearment like luv or pet. Giles curved a hand into 

Spike's hair as his own head fell back against the wall at the stroke of hands, lips, teeth and tongue over his ribs. Enough breathing, more kissing. He needed more of that mouth, now. "Spike," Tugging the vampire up by the hand at the back of his neck, Giles smiled against those lips, whispering. "Such delicious kisses," He swallowed Spike's harsh groan and sent his tongue on a long imagined exploration. Strong hands tightened against Giles' back, pressing him harder against a sculpted chest as Spike eagerly returned the kiss.

That beautiful body touched his from the belt up and it reminded Giles of something. Of all that lovely bare skin that was so close and begging to be touched. Unwilling to break this kiss, he raised both hands to cup the chiseled line of Spike's jaw, nibbling at that lush lower lip. /Lord, Spike, your mouth/ Sliding both hands down, Giles lightly dragged the edges of his nails along the pale skin of his neck and shoulders."Ru- Rupert," Every part of that gorgeous body trembled and pressed closer. Giles smiled against the lips that were gasping his name.

/Sensitive here, are we?/ "More?"

"God, please, yes." Fingers tightened in his hair, tugging Giles' face down even as Spike's head arched back to expose every inch of his throat. "Rupert, more."

Grinning now, Giles moved forward, his back leaving the wall as his arms tightened around Spike. "More it is, then." Letting those hands guide him, he softly touched his lips to a lean collarbone, flicking the tip of his tongue over pale skin. "Spike," With a groan, Giles trailed his lips up and down every inch of that neck, loving each gasp and moan vibrating in his ears. "Howharddo you like it?" Scratching his teeth over Spike's skin, he thrilled at the twitch and tremble of the body in his arms. /My vamp's got a thing for teeth and nails. This'll be so much fun./

"Cor, Watcher, harder, please"Closing his eyes and swallowing back a groan, Giles tightened his arms around Spike's body and sank his teeth into a patch of that smooth skin. If the scratching of his teeth had caused an entire body twitch, then the bite brought on a grand mal seizure as every inch of that lovely pale body nearly jerked itself out of his arms. The pleasured growl on those lips dragged a harsh sigh from Giles' throat.

Or maybe that sound was caused by the sharp dig of fingernails into the back of his neck. "Spike,"

"Good god, my Watcher, upstairsbednow." /God, that voice/ Giles was about to respond, to say yes however loud his voice could manage. But then lips covered his and his tongue was otherwise occupied.


	5. the fun part of finding each other

Chapter 5: The fun part of finding each other.

He babbled something, Spike was sure he had. But words no longer had any meaning at all as every nerve in his body responded eagerly to the slow drag of hard nails down his throat. Words had wandered away, but Spike's body certainly knew what it wanted. And how to ask for it.

Fisting hands in Giles' hair, Spike pulled those lips closer as his body arched helplessly to expose his throat. Tender lips and tongue stroked along his skin, dragging equally tender sounds from Spike's throat. /Cor, bloody hell, yes./ "Spike, howharddo you like it?" Even before Giles lightly scratched over his skin, the vampire was trembling in the strong arms holding him. At the light, gentle bite, he arched helplessly. /Rupert, please../

"Cor, Watcher, harder, please" /Bite me harder, please./ Slowly, carefully teeth pressed into the sensitive skin of his throat, sending jolts through all his nerves and muscles. Words built up on the back of his tongue but the only sound that escaped his clenched teeth was a growl.

A growl that was followed by a sigh from his watcher. /Sweet bloody hell, he's enjoying the bite as much as I am./ "Spike,"/Right here, Rupert, not going anywhere./

"Good god, my watcher. Upstairs bednow." Bed was a must, another sensation like that bite and he'd have to take his watcher right here, against the wall or on the stairs. /Don' want his knees giving out just yet./ Just as Spike tried to pull back to lead Giles to the bed, another sigh crossed those sweet lips and it was too much.

/Just one moretaste/Tilting Giles' chin up, he savored the eager response of that mouth."Hmm, Spike," /That's it, watcher, groan my name./ Those lips left his, and only a fingertip tracing the fresh mark on his throat kept him from closing that distance again. "It's a little difficult to climb the stairs when you're still kissing me."

"Want me to stop?" Loving the instant denial on Rupert's face, Spike dragged one hand and its nails down the hard muscles of his back, pressing his hips closer to feel the erection he knew was there. "No, watcher, I don' think you want me to stop."

"Stop? No, lord, no." Spike shivered at the heated caress of those eyes over his skin. "But falling down the stairs " Giles leaned closer, returning the pressure of Spike's hips against his own. "Might cause us a few problems, Spike." One more word, one more of those hot gazes. 

One more smile, or touch, or kiss, and it might be all over right here. Spike knew he'd have to figure out how to make the wall, the stairs, or the dining room table a workable position. /Not for the first time/ Breathing somehow helped him drag himself back into control, placing one hand over a rapidly beating heart.

"Go on upstairs, Watcher, I'm right behind you."

Giles resisted the distance added by Spike's arm, confusion written on his forehead. And in his voice. "Spike?"

"Sh, Rupert," Spike couldn't help but stroke a thumb over those sweet lips, his eyes following the movement. "I didn't change my mind." /Like I ever could./ "I want this, I just...just need a minute. Go upstairs. I'll be right up." Giles smiled softly and nibbled at the pad of his thumb, making Spike groan slightly and pull back weakly. "Go on, now, Watcher."

A thoughtful look crossed those eyes, then lips brushed over his. "Hurry up, or I'll be back down." Warm hands slowly dragged down his arms and left his skin as Giles pulled away and walked up the stairs. Spike helplessly watched the half naked man disappear up the stairs, wearing nail marks on his bare neck and shoulders. /Bloody hell, that man is so damn hot.../ He grinned. /And he's mine./

Deliberately taking deep breaths, Spike moved quickly to the coatrack, rifling through the pockets of his leather trench. He had some, he had to. Otherwise he should just walk out the front door. 'Cause resisting the man waiting for him upstairs.../Not possible./ Searching fingers closed around a small tube at the very bottom of the last inside pocket. /Oh, yesss/The trench coat hit the floor at the foot of the stairs as booted feet nearly flew up them. Passing Dawn's door, Spike found himself listening for that heartbeat, but couldn't hear it over his own harsh breathing. On its own, his hand found and opened the door to Giles' room. /Ah, there it is./ The pounding heartbeat filled his ears a fraction of a second before that warm body pressed his into the wall. /That's it, my watcher, touch me./ "Rupert,"

"What took you so long, Spike?" Warm hands closed around his wrists, pinning his arms against the wall. "You didn't change your mind, did you?"

"Never, my watcher, never. But now you got me..." Spike arched, pressing his hips against Giles' erection. "What will you do with me?" A dark smile curved the lips mere inches from his and that warm body pressed closer. /There's my Ripper./ Spike grinned in return, treasuring the tightening of that grip and the groan on those lips.

"Hmm, Spike, that's a wide open offer." Giles slowly released Spike's wrists and sliding his hands down those hard muscles to his belt, opening it with a languid flick of his wrist. And Spike jerked helplessly at those agile hands opening his pants. "Anything I want?"

Those hot fingers wrapped around the hard length of him and Spike fought against sliding down the wall, babbling and breathing helplessly. "Yes, bloody hell, anything. Just don't stop." Clenching both fists behind Giles's neck, he dragged that mouth to his own. "Cor, Rupert, please."

Even as Spike claimed those lips with an urgent kiss, his hands fumbled their way down bare skin to Giles' belt. /Sodding clothes./ First the buckle gave way and the lips adoring his groaned. Those warm fingers moving constantly over his erection were just another level of distraction. Just too much. Breaking the kiss, Spike buried his lips against the warm line of Giles' throat, counting his heartbeats with the tip of his tongue as he finally worked open the button and zipper."Spike, lord, yes."

/Oh, god, bloody hell, Rupert./ So hot, so hard and hot. /For me./ The prim and proper Watcher was rock hard in his hands and struggling to breathe. It was bloody amazing. "My Watcher, cor, you feel good but you're still wearing too much." Groaning helplessly, Spike took his hands away from the hot shaft of Giles and slid them along warm skin, dragging those pants down. /Gorgeous man, my gorgeous man./

"Spike... want you... lose the pants... now." Giles kicked off his own shoes and shoved down Spike's pants at the same time. /Smart, my man is, too./ Touching warm lips to Spike's, he pressed that warm body forward, wrapping Spike in hot skin. /So bloody hot./ "Good lord, I need you, Spike."

Groaning into those sweet lips, Spike arched against that hot, hard body, treasuring every single inch of his skin that was warmed by the man in his arms. /You got me, Rupert. God, I need you so bad. I need you closer. Much closer./ "Bed, Rupert, naked, now... please."

Giles panted for breath at the touch of two strong hands around the most urgent part of his body. His own hands hungrily explored the equally hard length of Spike's erection. /Dear lord, Spike, you want me.../ Even as those lips caressed the racing pulse in his neck, those hands moved away...to his waistband. /Oh, yeah, our clothes./ "Spike...want you...lose the pants...now." Losing his own shoes, Giles shoved at Spike's pants. /Not going to be naked 

alone, here./ With more of that beautiful body exposed, he wrapped himself in that cool, pale skin, groaning against soft lips at the first touch of an erection against his own. "Good lord, I need you, Spike."

That voice. That lovely voice groaned as its owner arched against him. "Bed, Rupert, naked, now...please." /Yes, now would be good./ Stepping out of the last of his clothes, Giles slowly moved out of Spike's arms to sit on the edge of the bed.

The strangest look of hesitance and longing filled those gorgeous blue eyes and those pale hands clenched. Giles' heart tried to climb up his throat at the need in Spike's face. Sometimes he forgot how different this vampire was behind his tough facade. How much of himself Spike usually tried to hide. /But not now, not from me./ Letting every ounce of the need he felt show on his face, Giles reached out a hand. "Come to bed, Spike, come here."

Another glance for reassurance and Spike grinned in that nearly arrogant, very sexy, way, kicking off his shoes and pants on his way to the bed. "Impatient bloke, just can' wait to have me." Giles groaned at the feel of that body pressing his own into the mattress, eagerly wrapping his arms around Spike to pull him even closer. "Lucky you, to get me all to yourself."

"Yes, lucky me." /Very, very lucky me./ Taking Spike's lips in yet another breathless kiss, he rolled his vampire to his back and pressed his wrists to the bed. "Now that I've got you, what should I do with you? With every lovely inch of you?" The touch of his lips on the unmarked side of a pale neck drew another of those simply lovely twitches and groans. Giles groaned in return, gently biting into the skin as he wondered how that voice might sound as he pressed himself inside the pale body in his arms. "God, Spike, I need to feel you."

Spike trembled against him and tugged his head up to look into Giles' eyes. /God, those eyes./ Giles fought for breath yet again at the height of the need in those blues eyes. And it was real. Everything he'd thought he seen, hoped he'd seen, for days, weeks had really been there. All of it was there now with no attempt to hide it. "Take me, then, Watcher. Feel me then."

Pale hands pushed at his chest and Giles reluctantly moved away from his vampire as he rolled to his hands and knees. He felt his own pulse speed up at the sight of that look on Spike's face. The lines of that lean body on all fours in his bed made his breath shudder out. /Dear lord, you're hot./ "Spike, I..."

"I don' fancy a headache right now," Spike grinned into his eyes, looking back at him along the line of a naked shoulder. "Don' know how... experienced you are and... cor, I need to feel you. Now. Take me, Watcher."

Even as every cell in his body rejoiced at the idea, Giles' mind whirled. It had been a very long time since he'd...well since he needed supplies for this kind of thing, he didn't think he had any. And vampire or not, Giles would not take Spike without something, hurting him was not an attractive idea. There were other very fun things they could do first. "I want to, Spike, dear lord, I've never wanted to more...but I don't have..."

"Any slick?" That voice chuckling sent a pleasant shiver along his spine. And the little tube lying in the palm of one of those hands was nearly the most beautiful thing Giles had seen in a long time. Second only to the vampire holding it out to him. "Got you covered there, my Watcher."

He groaned, he was certain he had. But Giles had all the reason in the world to be having difficulty breathing, or using his voice. Spike was here with him, gorgeous and eager and waiting. "Not like I'll get you covered right quick." Crawling over the bed to kneel behind his vampire, he stroked a hand down the simply gorgeous lines of that back, feeling the tremble under his fingers move up to his own back. "Spike, hold on," Sliding both hands along the body under his, Giles guided those pale hands to the headboard, curling those fingers around a bar. "You just might be surprised how experienced I am." He pressed a line of soft kisses along those broad shoulders while opening the tube and wetting down his fingers. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

At the touch of a gentle finger at his entrance, Spike arched back into that warm hand. "Please, Rupert, I want more." Giles nipped at that lovely skin with the edge of his teeth and pressed a little deeper, searching for the spot. Wanting to hear more of those delicious groans, he leaned farther over Spike's back and sank his teeth into the muscled line of a shoulder. "Cor, Watcher... you tryin' to drive me insane?"

Trying to distract himself from the way Spike felt around his fingers and how he would feel around another part of him, Giles focused on talking even as he found and pressed that sensitive little spot inside. "And what if I am?"

Instead of words, Spike only responded with a harsh groan and an involuntary arch of his back, his hands tightening around the headboard. "Oh, there is it. I found you, Spike, didn't I?" Giles groaned at the way that body moved against his. /God, so good, Spike./

Seeming to catch his breath, Spike turned and grinned at Giles over a shoulder. "Enough, already. You. Here. Now..."

/And now I'm the one that can't breathe/ "Spike," Sitting back on his heels, he missed the touch of Spike's skin and hurried to spr'ead the lube in his palm over himself, watching those eyes follow his hands. "Like what you see?"

"Like's not enough. Not nearly. Want, need, bloody hell, Rupert, get on with it." Giles shuddered as that body rocked back into his, driving the breath from his lungs. "I have to feel you. Now."

/God, I need to feel you, Spike. I need you./ "Hold still, Spike. Tell me if I hurt you." Gripping that lean waist, he rested his forehead against the middle of Spike's back and slowly pushed forward, gasping, panting at how this felt. /So tight, so good, Spike./

"So bloody warm, Rupert, you feel so damn good," One hand left the headboard, reaching back to curve around Giles' neck. Spike turned his head over his shoulder and dragged those lips to his. "Go on, my Watcher, burn me up." Giles happily moved forward through that tiny distance, taking those lips with his own and wrapping himself tighter around the cool body in his arms.

/I'll heat you up, my vampire, I'll make you burn./"You feel so bloody good, Spike." Sliding his hands along that pale skin, loving the way that cool body reacted to the touch, Giles curled his fingers around lean shoulders, using the leverage to press deeper inside with a harsh groan. "I'll make you yell for me."

Pleasure curled through his body and Giles treasured it, and the vampire causing it with that beautiful groan. It was simply amazing, the way Spike felt under him, around him, holding him tight inside. It got to be too much and he couldn't help moving. Slowly, carefully, Giles rocked his hips forward and muffled a groan of Spike's name against his skin.

The sound of that sexy voice making a low, breathless gasp made him lean closer to hear it better. Giles adored the way Spike sounded saying his name. But as he ran his lips up the back of his neck, he heard the word more clearly. It wasn't his name, but what it was sent just as powerful a jolt through his system. "Harder, please, harder." Then breathing became even closer to impossible for Giles as Spike turned his head, locking their eyes. Those blue eyes seemed to pierce through him with their need. "Rupert, harder, I need..."

/Dear sweet lord/ "Don't worry, I know exactly what you need." Rubbing his hands up from Spike's shoulders to get a firm grip on the headboard, Giles smiled against those lips and plunged, drinking in the sweet sound of Spike's gasp. Angling the shove of his hips to hit the 

sweet spot with every thrust, he nipped hard at the arched line of a pale throat, fighting for control at every move of that body against his own. "God, Spike," /More...so close...Spike/

That pale skin begged to be touched, begged for his hands. Especially one length of it. Sliding one hand from the headboard, Giles helplessly curled his fingers around Spike's shaft, groaning low in his throat. "You haven't yelled yet..." He could barely get the words out in the right order, but the twitch in Spike's back said he'd heard.

/Bloody hell, yes!/ Warm fingers gently stretched him and Spike knew he was babbling. He couldn't help it. This man just turned everything in his body on high and his brain seemed to miss the power surge. And control...that was the first thing to go when those hands touched him. Especially when those fingers got...there. /Oh, yeah, my experienced watcher./ "Enough, already. You. Here...Now."

Before his eyes, Giles sat back on his heels, stroking slick hands over his own hard length."Spike," His eyes were locked to the movement of those hands, but he could still hear the grin in that voice. "Like what you see?"

/Well, fuck yes./ "Like's not enough. Not nearly. Want, need, bloody hell, Rupert, get on with it." On its own Spike's body moved towards what he wanted, rocking against the warmth behind him. "I have to feel you. Now."

Finally, finally that heat was pressed close along his back again. Those hands warmed the skin of his waist and that burning hot erection was poised so close to inside. "Hold still, Spike. Tell me if I hurt you." The gentle concern in that voice and the slow, precise push of Giles inside him left him breathless, speechless as his body was warmed inside and out.

Such amazing heat."So bloody warm, Rupert. You feel so damn good." God, it was so good but Spike needed more. Taking one hand off the headboard, he pulled those lips to his, needing the warmth of that breath on his face. "Go on, my watcher, burn me up." But even this wasn't close enough and Spike groaned as Giles obeyed his grip and kissed him. /Damn, my watcher can kiss./

"You feel so bloody good, Spike." /Cor, that voice./ Warm hands stroked over what seemed like every nerve in his chest before closing in a gentle grip on his shoulders. The air left his lungs again at the slow, deep press of Giles inside him. "I'll make you yell for me." /Not likely when I can' even breathe enough to groan, but feel free to try./ The gentle thrusts warmed 

him more than physically, he adored knowing that Giles cared enough to be so gentle with him.

But Spike needed more, more of this, more of Giles. Ducking his head, Spike rocked back into the hard warmth of Giles, begging with more than his body. "Harder, please, harder," Hot lips on the back of his neck made speaking even closer to impossible. Turning his head, Spike found those eyes with his own, breathlessly groaning. "Rupert, harder, I need..." His voice stopped, but his body kept asking with the roll of his hips and the needy look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, I know exactly what you need." Spike shuddered and trembled at the painting of heat along his body before those lovely warm hands settled near his own on the headboard. The first hard thrust of his watcher inside him pushed a nearly soundless gasp out of his throat. But Giles must have heard it, 'cause his lips and teeth seemed to be searching for another one just like it through the skin of his throat, digging deep. /damn lucky me to get myself a biter./ "God, Spike," The sweet rasp of that voice only intensified the already urgent way Spike's body was moving on its own, desperate for more. Then even the words in his head that he couldn't get to his lips wandered away at the touch of one hot hand around his shaft, stroking him. "You haven't yelled yet..."

Melting now, yelling soon. Screaming maybe. As soon as his body stopped twitching hard enough to keep his lungs empty, Spike would make any damn noise his watcher wanted to hear. Filled with and surrounded by heat, this man's heat, he might just sing bloody opera or hit a sodding high C. Of course, the...oh, god... amazing thrusts of Giles's hips might make it so he couldn't ever breathe again. And it would be worth it. /More than worth it, bloody hell./

Pushing against the headboard, Spike arched back into another thrust, managing to get enough air for a small groan. "Rupert, please."That warm body shuddered over his an instant before those lips opened to let teeth scrape over his skin. Spike groaned a little louder against his will. Any time his watcher made to bite him, he wasn't the one in control of anything then, much less his body.

The smile pressed to his shoulder told Spike in no uncertain terms that Giles knew exactly what this was doing to him. The words sorta made that clear too. "That wasn't the yell I wanted." Another hard thrust and one desperate kiss later Spike could feel the explosion building at the base of his spine. /So bloody close...please...more./

Arching every inch of his back to put his neck close to those sweet lips, he drew in a deep breath, about to beg for a bite. The words didn't make it to his lips before Spike felt those teeth sinking into the side of his neck anyway. That was it, all it took. And Spike yelled, his climax rushing hard and fast through his body. "God, Rupert!" Even through the haze of pleasure, he felt and treasured that last hard thrust and the shout that fell off those lips as Giles collapsed over him.

Spike loved how his name sounded yelled by his watcher's voice and cuddled himself closer into that heat. "Spike," That soft sound, accompanied by the tightening of warm arms around him, felt simply amazing. Everyone pulled away from him, everyone. But Giles pulled him closer, wanted to hold him. Turning within the grip of those arms, Spike tugged his head down for a soft kiss, slowly meeting his gaze. What he could see there melted his knees, the wealth of emotion burning in those eyes...it was...everything. "Spike, you are so..." Giles paused, lightly touching a fingertip to the line of his cheek. "So incredible, and not close enough. Come here."

Trembling lips pressed to his own and Spike wrapped himself tighter in Giles's arms, listening to the heartbeat that was still racing because of him. "Rupert, my watcher, you feel so good, so right."

"I better, I just made you yell for me." The crooked smile on those lips and the small laugh shaking those ribs somehow made Spike even more relaxed against his chest.

"And I didn' I just make you come harder than you ever did in your life?" Spike grinned, sliding his fingertips along a warm neck and feeling the pulse speed up at the touch. "Your heart jumps at the sight of me. I rock your bloody world."

"It's mutual, then, isn't it, Spike?" Warm fingers curved around his neck, covering the bitemarks and pulling their wearer close. "So we better get a little sleep before I decide to make you wake up the neighbors."

/Sleeping to the sound of that heartbeat./ "Hell, yes. Get your rest, my watcher. I'll give you a workout like you ain't never had." Lying down in the arms held out to him, Spike rested his head on a strong shoulder, soaking in the heat and listening to his watcher's heartbeat slow until sleep took them both.

If he stayed in bed for one more minute, Spike would have to wake Giles in a most...creative way and go about making that heartbeat speed up again. Even though the watcher certainly gave as good as he got. /Cor, yes, my man does/ he needed more sleep than the few hours they'd had. Brushing a kiss over his forehead, Spike smiled at the way his human turned towards the cool touch. /Yeah, keep turning to me, my watcher. I'll be back soon./ Slipping into his pants, Spike gave Giles one last glance before he left the room, feeling the cold air on every inch of skin still warmed from sleeping in his human's arms.

He paused a moment on the stairs, listening for that precious heartbeat before heading down to the kitchen. "Good morning, Spike." Dawn looked up at him from the kitchen table with a smile as her eyes trailed over the marks on his neck.

"It is a lovely morning, pet." Ruffling her hair, he pulled her to her feet for a quick hug, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "And I have you to thank for that." Spike smiled at Dawn and started water to boil for Giles' morning tea.

"So... it all worked out..." Every line of her pyjama-clad teenage body called out expectant curiosity as she leaned against the kitchen counter to watch him.

A smile and a laugh both fought their way onto his lips at the same moment. "Bloody hell, yes. It all worked out just beautifully."

"And you were careful with him..." Dawn's eyes locked to his and Spike again marveled over her ability to control him with a tone in her voice and a look on her face. As for her words...he grinned.

"Not really, but he was careful with me." Spike felt and made no attempt to hide the soft expression on his face. There wasn't a chance he could hide with his voice just how much Rupert's gentleness had touched him, might as well not try at all with his face. /It's not like she can' read me anyway. Pinned down what I wanted afore I did./ "Rupert was very gentle with me."

"Gentle, really," Spike heard the sarcasm in her voice before he felt her fingertips trace one of the bite marks on his neck. "I'm sure he was."

"He was, as long as I let him be anyway." His lips twisted into a sexual smile. "After that...lord, that man..."

"Uh-uh, I told you last night, Spike, total approval, but so not wanting details." Patting his shoulder, Dawn moved back to her breakfast on the table. "Now, be a good boy and finish making your boyfriend's tea."

"You wouldn't be trying to steal my vampire, would you now, Dawn?" Spike watched the smile on Dawn's face get brighter until the warmth of arms wrapping around him made his eyes flutter closed. /His vampire, I...damn, I like that./ Lips, warm lips brushed over one of the 

marks on his neck and Spike tilted his head to expose more of his throat and pressed back harder into the heat of his watcher's body. "I would have to fight you for him, and I think I would win."

"Clearly," Dawn grinned and stood up. "I'm going to go get dressed before I get all those details I keep not asking for." Brushing a kiss against Giles' cheek, she passed out the door and up the stairs.

"We're going to have to practice this a bit more, Spike."

/Practice?...hmm, of cour-huh?/ Mostly distracted by the heartbeat against his back, it took Spike a second to realize he had no idea what his watcher was talking about. "Huh? Practice what, Rupert?" Turning in those arms, he rested his hands over that heart, listening to it through the tips of his fingers.

"The morning thing. I didn't like waking up alone, Spike." Spike groaned and opened for a kiss at the curve of those warm hands around his jaw, treasuring the urgent need passing between them.

"Oh, I think we can manage that, my Watcher. 's long I can wake you up now 'n then."

"Hmm," Giles wrapped his arms around Spike, pulling him close. "Being woken up by my vampire and his creative mind..." Smiling against those pale lips, he groaned softly. "Oh, I think I can live with that." Losing his ability to breathe in his watcher's kiss, Spike relaxed completely. /Damn, life is good./


End file.
